Playing Both Sides
by Ellynne
Summary: Monroe thought things were bad enough when the Wesenrein wanted to kill him. Then fate sent him a defense attorney named Mr. Gold, and the judge isn't who he thinks he is. . . .


Monroe, a bit more torn and bloodied than before, was dragged back to the Wesenrein's little amphitheater and the "trial" began again. The leader once again signaled his subordinate who, once again, began reading off the charges, when he was interrupted by the sound of someone clearing his throat.

It wasn't a loud noise, but it carried. It was also a very distinct noise. This was the throat clearing elderly relatives used—the kind of elderly relatives who had never had kids, never wanted kids, and never understood why kids acted like kids—when they spotted a kid about to track mud over a white carpet and wanted to make sure the kid knew that, if he ever wanted a chance to grow up to be old enough _not_ to be a kid, he'd put his dirty feet elsewhere and do it fast.

The Wesenrein, turned as one, quickly and guiltily. There, at the edge of the clearing, stood a small, thin man in a dark suit that probably cost two or three times what Monroe's car was worth. He leaned lightly on a gold handled cane looking over the assembly in front of him.

Monroe didn't wonder what the man was doing here. The entire Wesenrein shifted uneasily, like kids caught doing something naughty. There are some things even regular, nonWesen had enough animal instincts to clue in on. As for Wesenrein, every animal instinct present was screaming that their survival might depend on asking the right question—and the right question wasn't how a man in a business suit who walked with a cane had stumbled across them in the middle of nowhere in a large forest; the right question was why had they been thoughtless enough to put their forest and kangaroo court in his way? And what were they going to do about it?

But, while most of the Wesenrein shuffled their feet and looked ready to be told to go stand in a corner, their leader was made of sterner stuff. "Who are you?" he demanded. "And what are you doing here?"

The eyes of the man with the walking stick widened in politely mocking surprise. "Isn't it obvious, dearies? This is a trial. Your side seems to be well represented, but you need someone to represent the other. Or you do if it's to be a fair trial. I've come to offer my services. My name, by the way, is Mr. Gold. . . ."

Much of what followed passed in a haze for Monroe. A corner of his mind kept trying to argue that there was something wrong with this. Lawyers didn't just show up in their Armani business suits, strolling through the woods and looking for clients. But, he found it hard to focus, maybe because of the mob of angry Wesen getting ready to burn him alive—

"Don't be silly," Mr. Gold said.

"What?"

"They won't burn you alive. Even with a Blutbad's constitution, you'll die almost instantly once they impale you on that thing. You'll never even feel the flames."

"You're my lawyer. Aren't you supposed to be a little more supportive?"

"Who said I was your lawyer? I'm only here to represent the other side. Quiet down. You'll want to hear this next bit."

The "next bit" was Bud, kidnapped and dragged in against his will to testify against Monroe. Being Bud, he stuttered and hemmed and hawed. Then, to Monroe's surprise, he suddenly turned on the Wesenrein, telling them what he thought of them.

"You've got to help him," Monroe told Gold. "Tell them to let him go. I don't care what they do to me, but Bud—"

"Noble sentiments," Gold said. "But, unnecessary. It won't change anything."

"But, Bud—"

"Quiet, dearie. They're getting ready to pass sentence. You don't want to miss this part."

Maybe Gold was the Wesenrein's idea of a joke, a spokesman who gave their crimes an extra gloss of respectability. Monroe didn't know and he decided he didn't care. He told the Wesenrein what he thought of them and their judgment. He told them the only thing that mattered was his love for his wife.

And the Wesenrein told him he was guilty.

As they began to shove Monroe towards the stake, Mr. Gold cleared his throat once again. The Wesen paused, looking at him uneasily. None of them actually started sucking their thumbs or looking for a place to hide, but Monroe could see they were thinking about it.

"You have something to say?" the Grand Master said. "Do you dispute the judgment of this court?"

"Oh, no," Mr. Gold said, smiling blandly. "I quite agree with it. Guilty as charged. However, I think there's one point you've misunderstood. Well, two, actually."

"And what are those?"

"Ah, well, you see, the first is that you seem to have misunderstood my position here. You seem to think—pardon me, if I'm mistaken—you seem to think I came here as the lawyer for the_ defense_. I'm not. I am the prosecutor. And Monroe is not the one on trial here. You are." He smiled again, vicious as cat about to swallow its still twitching prey.

"You want purity," the man said. "Very well. You shall have it. Wesen are hybrids, neither men nor beasts. Let's correct that."

The Grand Master's brother, might not understand what Gold meant (Monroe suspected he'd had trouble understanding Dick and Jane, back in the day) but he understood it was some kind of threat. He pulled out a knife and lunged at Gold. Gold made a negligent gesture towards him, like a man shooing off a fly. The would be attacker went flying into a tree and stayed there, suspended above the ground. Then, he began to scream. His body twisted this way and that, limbs writhing and twisting. Monroe felt sick at the sight. Then, he realized he wasn't seeing him being twisted and crushed. The man was changing. Except he wasn't a man.

A wolf fell to the ground. It shook its head, dazed. Then, it saw Gold. It crouched low and whined.

Gold ignored it. "And, now, the rest of you."

The screaming didn't last long.

Gold watched as the beasts scampered off into the forest before turning around and looking at Monroe and Bud. "I trust you're satisfied with this turn of events?"

Bud nodded vigorously. "Oh, yeah. Completely satisfied. This is great. This is wonderful—Don't hurt us. _Please, _don't hurt us."

"Hurt you?" Gold looked ever so politely surprised, the same way he had when he first saw the Wesenrein. Monroe didn't find it reassuring. "I don't want to hurt you. I want you to deliver a message for me. Consider it payment for services rendered. Your friend, Nicholas Burkhardt, his mother tried to kill my son. She failed. Consequently, I've decided I it's no in my interests to kill her. But, that will change if she interferes again. Tell her I'm going to wake my son up soon, and she can't stop me. Tell her not to try. But, if she does try, _my son_ may be the one who decides what to do with her after I explain _everything _to him. I think she knows where that might lead. Ask her if she wants that to happen." He looked towards the trees. "Ah, I believe that's your ride coming. You'll pardon me if I find my own way home."

Monroe looked at whatever it was Gold had been looking at, but saw nothing. When he looked back, Gold was gone. Then, the wind shifted, and he smelled the scent of people. A few minutes later, Nick and the others came charging out of the woods, weapons drawn.

"Monroe? Are you all right? What happened?"

Monroe wasn't sure how to answer that one.


End file.
